


and i hope you find your dreams

by adnyx



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-game Established Relationship, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 13:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15074213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adnyx/pseuds/adnyx
Summary: The real question is who are they, who are they in this mess of a killing game? Are they merely pawns, and does the mastermind truly exist? Are they being watched? Is some outside force feeling regret, sadness, mirth, fun watching high school kids kill each other and find the murderer with their lives at the stake?(Well, he certainly is going to appeal to said force. He's a natural charmer.)





	1. and darling never settle, settle, settle

**Author's Note:**

> title is taken from gold by sir sly
> 
> SO! this is for the saiouma exchange 2.0, written for the lovely, wonderful #16!
> 
> their prompt was: "pregame fluff or in-game one-sided love would be awesome"
> 
> welp, i got both... hope you - both the fandom and the fabulous recipient #16 - enjoy it!!

“Saihara-kun… that's unhealthy.” he stutters meekly, hands fidgeting and playing with his own locks of dark violet hair. He idly notices he has to dye it again soon. 

It's dark and cold outside, but they left the window open. Neon lights frame the Tokyo horizon; it's wet and humid, people rush - as usual - under the downpour, umbrellas all around. The only thing keeping Kokichi from freezing to his death is his boyfriend's sweater, too big for Ouma's fragile body. It smells like Shuichi, a smell no less soothing then the boy himself. It honestly felt as though they matched, two pieces of a puzzle meant only for each other; it’s almost like they could mend one another, if only for a while…

Shuichi is sweet like honey, but his obsessions aren't.

“Relax, Ouma-kun!” the amber-eyed boy smiles at him reassuringly, and he can feel his heart flutter thanks to this. Shuichi presses a kiss to his temple and almost shoves his phone into Kokichi's face. “Look at this.”

He shows him a video. It's in 4K, on 60 frames per second, and it's similar every single time: a little bit more than a dozen of high schoolers like them gathered in a neat circle, a few places designated for others having their previous owners’ portraits crossed out instead of the actual person. Someone is shouting, someone is crying, and it was startling when Ouma first watched it alone, at home, long before he met Shuichi. He’s used to it now.

“Saihara-kun is really interested in this show…” Kokichi presses a finger to his own lips, musing. “I hope you aren't going to sign up for the 53rd season!”

“Actually, I did.”

Ouma’s world freezes. He feels his eyes widen as his frightened stare meets Shuichi's calm eyes; suddenly, the latter frowns. Saihara then sighs, the crease in his brow ever so present, and cups the smaller boy's face with one hand, using the other to hold Ouma’s palm in his.

“It's okay,” he breathes out. “I don't even know if they'll accept me.”

“I hope they don't,” Ouma buries his head in the crook of his boyfriend's neck, lips tracing over Shuichi's collarbone, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I hope they don't.”

He’s scared. Gosh, he hates to admit it, but he is. Would he have to watch his Shuichi die? Kill someone? Get executed? Will he come back alive? And if he does, would he even remember or love Ouma?

“Don't leave me, Saihara-kun. Don't leave me, Shuichi.”

He holds him through the night. Saihara's uncle comes late at night, anyway.

 

***

It's been a few weeks since that night, and Ouma did all the research he could ever do. Turns out Team Danganronpa reviews each applicant individually, one at a time, just so the world could see who will the next participants be. Just so the kids could bask in their fame before their gory, disgusting demise.

 

On the train, Ouma checks his boyfriend’s Twitter page.

 

_ Detective Saihara _

_ @Saihara_Shuuichi _

_ A Danganronpa fanatic, a good boyfriend, and a lowkey otaku. _

 

_ 352 Following _

_ 56,783 Followers _

 

Wait, what?

Fifty-six thousand seven hundred and eighty three followers. When exactly did Saihara-kun manage to gain so many? How exactly did he do that?

He checks Shuichi's tweets.

 

_ @homuuuchan Yes, thank you so much for your congratulations! _

 

What congratulations?

 

_ @smo67 Of course, I know everything there is to now about this. _

 

He felt his breath catch in his throat. What was he talking about? What was going on with the social media? 

 

_ @EnoshimaJunkoOFF You will not regret that decision. _

 

He wants to pretend this isn't real. Maybe it's all just a fever dream? Maybe he’ll wake up in Shuichi's arms and he’ll feed him chicken broth and they'll rewatch anything  _ that's not Danganronpa _ ? 

 

_ Very proud to have been accepted to @TeamDANGANRONPA. Looking forward to working with you! _

 

Oh, no. Oh, no.  **Oh, no.** This wasn't happening… there is no way it is.

He wants to puke. He wants to puke. He wants to go home and cuddle with Shuichi. He remembers their nights together - nothing too inappropriate, just the nights they dreamed and shared ambitions together.

_ “Saihara-kun, wherever you go, I go, too.” _ he held his hand that night, looking him in his eyes. And then they locked gazes, crystalline amber with dreamy purple, and they kissed on Saihara-kun's apartment building's rooftop.

His Shuichi might not be coming home. His Shuichi probably won't come home. The only option right now… is for him to follow his Shuichi.

He goes out on a station different than usual. He makes his way to a tall, neat-looking building with a few antennae on top and a black-and-white bear logo. He pushes people, hurries and mumbles  _ sorry’s _ out; his face feels inhumanly hot underneath the surgical mask he's wearing, and he’s pretty sure his eyes are as wide as saucers by now.

He waits in the line to Team Danganronpa auditions. He texts Saihara.

 

_ me: Saihara-kun! I have to stay at school for a few more hours… I’m sorry I’m completely failing physics!! Love you _

 

This is an utter lie. Liars, in his opinion, are cowards. Are afraid of the truth. They  _ don't deserve the truth. _ Well, look at him now…

Ouma talks to a girl next to him; her cherry brown hair is tied in two knee-length ponytails, and she dons a red hoodie that says, in its brightly polished white letters,  _ “Don't talk to me. Don't come near me. Don't breathe near me.” _

"Hey," he clears his throat, attempting to socialize. “I’m Ouma Kokichi. You auditioning for Danganronpa?”

“Duh.” her answer is plain as that, but she seems somewhat nervous. “Harukawa Maki. I’ve got nothing to lose, so that's why I'm here. You?”

He hesitates, choosing words carefully. Should he tell her about this…?

His “friends” are fake. His classmates hate him. His dad is probably passed out in a ditch at the moment. His mother is dead. His sister doesn't need him. He’s doing this for Saihara-kun's sake.

He licks his lips. “I. I actually have someone I got to lose. I'm here for him.”

_ “Him?” _ Harukawa raises her eyebrows.

“My… good friend has been accepted.”

"And you want to follow him?” she shoots him an excruciatingly sharp look. “That's stupid.”

"Maybe it is. He means the world to me, though.” He isn't lying. He  _ hates  _ liars, he despises them.

The sound reverberates through the halls; a person screams out:  _ next! _

“Break a leg. Not literally.” He gets to see Harukawa smile, too. Perhaps they'll be friends, during the game as its players or outside of it as observers. He smiles back.

The room is blindingly brightly lit. A woman in a Junko Enoshima cosplay costume sits across him and asks him to introduce himself.

 

"...My name is Ouma Kokichi. I am seventeen years old. I’m auditioning because the only person I ever cared for did, too… But I don't think I'll pass, haha. Oh, and also. I hate liars.”


	2. chasing down the devil; chasing down the gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gokuhara is dead. Iruma is dead. He is at fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i played the game like in november so i dont remember the exact dialogue  
> my apologies...

Slowly, one by one, he had put the pieces together.    
  
His memories were fabricated; DICE was, his mother was, all of his past was, and that applied to everyone else in this shithole of a school, too. The real question is who are they, who are they in this mess of a killing game? Are they merely pawns, and does the mastermind truly exist? Are they being watched? Is some outside force feeling regret, sadness, mirth,  _ fun _ watching high school kids kill each other and find the murderer with their lives at the stake?    
  
(Well, he certainly is going to appeal to said force. He's a natural charmer.)   
  
He found evidence to back up his hypotheses - a contradiction that seemed too out of place, a suspicious scene or dialogue... Piece by piece it all started to make sense. Except it didn't.

He knew something was up when Iruma suggested the  _ Neo World Program _ . Virtual avatars with a similarly virtual world to explore and live in left their real counterparts vulnerable, and Iruma could easily find a tweak in the program to make her appear online while she herself would kill someone in cold blood, no hesitation whatsoever. But he knew something.  _ She  _ would target  _ him _ , and so  _ he _ thought it all through.  _ He _ outsmarted  _ her _ .

Gonta was too kind, too gentle, vulnerable, obvious, credulous, naïve - the list could go on and on. God, did he feel bad using Gokuhara like this... he actually did, no matter how much does he deny this to himself. Some say, "we all make mistakes." Apparently, they don't know Ouma Kokichi; a walking, talking mistake, out there making even worse mistakes. Manipulating people like pawns even though he knows he is a pawn and then hoping for Saihara to at least have mercy on him, his soul, and his awful infatuation with the sleuth himself.   
  
Smart, exceptionally so; shy initially, but fierce when he opens up; has quite a keen eye on contradictions, and his logic is simply unimpeachable. As a cherry on top, he seems to  _ want  _ to understand Ouma. Isn't that just the sweetest guy in the world, or, at least, in this damn building?

(He drops plenty of hints, and usually tells himself that Saihara is just oblivious. Yet a part of him refutes that like his crush does to him on class trials; his actions are a conscious choice. He prefers to ignore your feelings, for you are merely a miserable little rat. A liar. A filthy liar.

That part of him is right.)

He has to tamper with the VR helmet wires. He has Gokuhara choke Iruma. He has to act surprised by the time he sees the body, albeit he only feels  _ sick _ for indirectly killing someone, even someone as disgusting as Iruma Miu. He doesn't see that one coming, but he has to be caught by his unrequited love, eventually.

Gonta is in tears.

“Gonta can no kill anyone! Gonta no like killing!” he sobs out, so big, with rippling muscles hidden beneath a formal jacket; his long hair looks wrapped around his body, glasses becoming foggy with his eyes foggy. Crying and shaking and snivelling, he chokes on air.

“Gokuhara-kun…”

Shuichi’s face looks pained, and when he looks him in the eye, it's the same expression as the one in Momota and Harukawa’s gaze. Pity for Gonta, hatred for him. (A thought just surfaced in his mind that the  _ liar  _ trait in him was probably fabricated, too. Because it feels forced, like peeling a person's skin, then doing  the same to someone else’s skin, and basically tugging foreign flesh on one's body. No longer a lump of meat, but now a fake person.)

His liar side, the one responsible for the bullshit he comes up with while talking, chimes in.  _ He’s disgusting! So big, but sobbing like a toddler… What a useless creature. It's a good thing he's getting executed right now, huh? Him, not you. _

Surprisingly, he doesn’t listen to said liar side. Instead, emotions - panic, anxiety, regret, sorrow,  _ madness  _ \- fill his lungs and lips and come spilling out, tearing apart at the seams.

_ “No!”  _ he shouts, breathless, as everyone else in the room turn their heads simultaneously. It’s all eyes on him now. “I-I’ll take the punishment for him! I planned out the murder!”

He notices Saihara’s eyes flicker. What did he feel? What did he think? (Neither of them learned to read each other. They never had the time to.)

Monokuma does his usual, annoying, outrageous  _ u~pu~pu.  _ “Yes, but you didn't actually murder him! So, goodbye, Gokuhara-kun!”

Tears burn in his eyes, threatening to spill. But he's a good actor, and he just spaces out as Gonta gets attacked by insects to his death.

 

Everyone hates him more now.  _ I don't care,  _ he thinks.  _ I don't care that I care! _

 

He barely sleeps. He dreams of Momota punching him, of Harukawa choking him, of Saihara's disappointed gaze. The latter creeps him out the most. He swore to himself to never get attached to anyone here, but there he is.

Maybe, if he could, he wouldn't use Gokuhara like this… in that case, he would've been dead by now. Easy prey.

He wakes up an hour later and draws on his chalkboard. He tries to guess what’s next like he always does, every single sleepless night, he tries to foresee the next murderers and victims. Except tonight, he can't. His gaze lingers on the mugshot of Saihara Shuichi; he feels his heart, that shrivelled, rotting old thing, ache and throb. Why? Why couldn't Ouma ever do  _ anything _ right? Did he fuck up, or did he not? He had everything planned out before Saihara came in plain sight. He had everything he ever needed in advance - that is, brains and charm - and had everything he ever wanted after meeting Shuichi. Yet he thwarted his plans.

Ouma likes planning everything. He likes being in charge of how events flow, of what gets to happen and what doesn't… Albeit, that's not his role in this unfair game for survival; and the damn detective always finds him out. (He likes to be found out by him.)

When he lies in his cold bed in a few hours, he dreams of Saihara. He dreams of Saihara's hands on his pale skin, bruised and bloody and beaten, and he dreams of Shuichi pressing light kisses to his injuries. Feels Shuichi's lithe fingers on his ribs, counting them, his thighs pressed into Ouma's hipbones.

When he opens his eyes, he has a plan in his head. One that would - _will -_ not be ruined by Saihara . First, he would need a hydraulic press. Second, he would need Momota.

Third, he draws a hidden message on the back of his chalkboard. It says, in messy handwriting, the following:

 

_ I’m in love with you, Saihara-chan. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked this ;~; constructive criticism is more than welcome!!!

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up at tumblr~~
> 
> wakandaforsometime


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